


sub rosa

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedannibal in Florence, F/M, Lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: The first time Bedelia bought lingerie to display for Hannibal.





	sub rosa

The delicate lace flows between her fingers, making the intricate details unfold under her touch. Red flowers cover the bottom of the brassiere with same coloured sprigs venturing up, few stems to mark an otherwise uncovered cup. The briefs match the top, flowers to mark the hips and mostly transparent behind. Bedelia appraises the piece, scrutinising its cut.

“Can I help you, _Signora_?” the boutique assistant approaches Bedelia with a wide smile and an eager air in her step.

“ _No, grazie_ ,” Bedelia dismisses her offer, perhaps sounding harsher than intended, but she can excuse it with her limited Italian.

The garment is well crafted, she can tell at once. Bedelia has always appreciated beautiful lingerie, enjoying having something exquisite hidden beneath her daily attire. But this piece is not meant to be tucked away under silks and tweeds. It is meant to displayed. Displayed for someone else.

The corner of her mouth twitches once as she reconsiders the idea.

“Red is your colour,” the woman does not give up on a chance of a commission as Bedelia continues to examine the attire.

She does not contour the feeble attempt of flattery, nor does she respond; she knows the woman is right. Yet red is not a colour she would normally be drawn to first, another betraying sign of the true purpose of her endeavour. She recalls shining dark eyes reflecting her visage and soaking up the image of her dressed in red, tinting their shade with pinpoints of the same colour, yet it is so unlikely the predatory gleam they usually assume.

With a decisive swipe of her hand, she takes the hanger off the wall and makes her way to the dressing room, no doubt closely observed by the saleswoman, but luckily, she does not follow her. She closes the door behind her and appraises the overly velvety interior of the space. Taking off her jacket, she drapes it over the armchair in the corner, the vermilion red of its upholstery staring back at her almost defensively; there is no escaping similar hues it seems. Her dress and undergarments, looking so tamed by comparison, follow and she slowly slips on the detailed lace. She adjusts the brassiere much longer than needed as if reluctant to look at her own reflection.

Where she finally looks up, she cannot help but smile. The fabric envelopes her body elegantly, accentuating her curves in just the right way, playful and teasing in its half-reveal. The hue appears darker against her sun kissed skin like deep arterial blood suddenly rising in floras on the surface of her body. Bedelia lets her hands trail sides of her body, admiring the gratifying view.

_She looks striking._

As her hands reach her hips, she thinks of Hannibal’s sure touch, setting off sparks beneath her skin with a mere brush of his fingertips. She imagines him tracing the lines of the undergarments, eager fingers wanting nothing more than to unwrap the remaining gems of her body concealed by the fabric, even if _barely_. Suddenly, she feels her nipples hardening, each shallow breath pushing them against the lace, the friction only arousing her further. Instant heat rises beneath her belly as she shifts in her spot.

Brushing off the increasingly stimulating thoughts, she removes the lingerie with haste; it would be beyond inappropriate to ruin the fabric even before she buys it. Leaving the dressing room with the set held tightly between her fingers, she goes straight to the cash counter before she changes her mind.

“For a boyfriend? Husband?” the saleswoman asks with a practised yet still genuine smile, carefully wrapping the lace in black paper.

Detesting any social preconceptions, Bedelia would normally frown as such attempts of familiarity and presuming to _know_ her, but the previous musings still linger with pleasant warmth cruising through her body, tingling tension to be relieved soon.

“Husband,” she admits unexpectedly as the woman hands her the bag. There is no need to keep her cover here, in front of a random stranger that she will never meet again, but somehow the word feels good on her tongue, warming her further.

She takes the package and leaves the boutique before the flush of her cheeks becomes ruby bright.

The dinner passes in unusual silence as Bedelia’s thoughts keep venturing off to the package hidden away in the wardrobe. With a strange fusion of hesitation and anticipation, she picks at her sea bass without really savouring it. If Hannibal noticed her distraction (she is certain he must have), he kept it to himself, settling for enjoying his meal in quietude. When the plates and glasses are finally empty, he sets to clear the table and Bedelia excuses herself at once, before her over-analytical mind banishes what she planned next altogether.

She retrieves the lingerie from the bedroom and slips, unobserved, into the bathroom. Her usual long bath is foregone in favour of a shorter cleanse, merely a steppingstone in her preparations. A bottle of scented balm awaits on the side table and Bedelia applies is lavishly over her body, encasing herself in the aroma of freesias. Her skin soft and fragrant, she finally unwraps the paper and puts on the new lingerie with care.

She appraises herself in the gilded mirror, making sure her locks remain intact. Adjusting a few unruly strands, she can see a glow emanating from her skin, but she attributes it to the effectiveness of the hot water and balm. The lace is sitting comfortable on her curves, appearing even more tempting than before under the golden lights of the bathroom. She adds a finishing touch of red lipstick, matching the shade of the undergarment; if the purpose of the outfit were not completely settled before, it definitely is now.

Bedelia presses her lips gently to even out the coat and inhales deeply. She has never done this for a lover before. Nervousness and excitement make her blood rush anew. She has never enjoyed being on display for someone, but now the anticipation of Hannibal’s reaction makes her heart flutter and fingertips quiver with impatience. She steps away from the mirror just as Hannibal’s voice sounds from behind the door.

“What would you like to do this evening?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, she finds no response, but smiles to herself nonetheless as she turns the knob and steps out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and perfume. She sees him unrolling the sleeves of his shirt and buttoning it up at wrists.

“We could-” Hannibal turns at the sound of doors opening and the words get lost in his mouth falling open at the sight of her, hand half suspended in the air.

Still smiling, Bedelia steps closer, mix of hyperconsciousness and arousal reaching a new peak, now that she is faced with his reaction. But when his eyes continue to watch her tentatively, mouth agape and saying nothing, the apprehension advances ahead. Perhaps, she has misjudged his tastes.

“You don’t like it,” she proclaims, ready to retreat.

“ _I do_ ,” he manages to get the words out at last, his face flushed with sudden shyness, making Bedelia realise that his silence was not a sign of disapproval, but a sudden return to his boyish self.

He looks utterly endearing; Bedelia’s exhilaration soars.

Now she can see him managing to collect himself enough to close the remaining distance between them. His hands rest on the small of her back as his gaze trails heat over her skin. Just the way she imagined he would. His continued bashfulness mingles with unrestrained lust and Bedelia finds herself breathing faster as his hands move to explore the lines his eyes marked. Curious fingers trace the outline of the embroidery, thumb skimming teasingly over the half-covered nipple, prompting a soft moan to fall from her lips.

This is exactly what she was hoping for and more, his touch always a thrilling surprise. Hannibal dips his head, lips caressing her exposed cleavage and the mounts of her breasts, before kneeling in front of her and continuing his journey down her abdomen, marking the way with slow kisses. Admiration of his favourite masterpiece in a magnificent new frame.

“ _Perfetto, come la rinascita di Venere_ ,” he declares, placing a kiss beneath her belly button and then lower, making Bedelia’s legs tremble, lace already soaking wet; she no longer cares about ruining the ensemble.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, making him look up at her, eyes gleaming with familiar ruby undertones, yet there is nothing but adoration and desire beneath the luminosity, a tamed beast at her feet.

“I am certain lovers have dressed for you before, Hannibal,” she continues to stroke his hair, luxuriating in his affection, but also slightly self-conscious about its extend.

Hannibal’s tilts his head as though the mere idea of any past lovers were incredulous. He stands up slowly, hands reversing their journey up her back, making her body shiver and press forward, pliant under his expert touch.

“ _You_ have not dressed up for me before,” the slight tremor in his voice betrays his emotions further, “No one else matters, Bedelia.”

She briefly averts her gaze, feeling a fresh blush advancing under her cheeks. One of his hands rests on the back of her brasserie, fingers tracing the hook closure teasingly and the confinement of the lace no longer serves Bedelia’s breasts, now pushing against his chest in a silent plea for him to remove the barrier. He inclines his ahead again, this time to press her lips against hers, burning red and equally tempting. His other hand ventures to her behind, squeezing it firmly before wrapping itself around her body. Her arms encircle his neck as he lifts her up with ease.

“We need to make sure that your efforts are not wasted,” Hannibal whispers into her ear while carrying her slowly in the direction of the bedroom, a thrilling promise of pleasure to come making her sigh in response.

Soon, the fine pieces of lace lay discarded on the floor, red petals of flowers blossomed and fallen. They hold each other closely, minds and bodies entwined in bliss, branches reaching high in their exuberant growth.

The floret buds in their hearts are only beginning to bloom.

**Author's Note:**

> I love all the "firsts" they have with each other and this was a particularly fun and sexy one to write. I haven't written Florence arc in a while, so that was fun too.  
> I am sorry I have been so slow with my writing as of late; life and inspiration have been bad. I have not forgotten about any of the prompts waiting.  
> Thank you for reading! Feedback is love ♥


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